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As a young woman, I somehow feel confused with the aim of my existence.

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Early in the morning the white hot sun is already baking,
could I then awake,
before the rain pours down later.

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Awakening

Morning sun climbs in the blue

Shimmering indigo hues

Lift the sunrise, raised

By hands invisible,

Clouds that dragged by.

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In praise of mother nature.

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What the writer felt during her confinement at the institution at the age of sixteen… she spent 40 days and 40 nights there.

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More Razorwind poetry up.

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This is a poem about a young girl who is afraid of the man-made world. She finds a sanctuary in the natural world and wishes to stay there for an eternity.

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Awakening. Phase:1.

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The familiar sting awakens my senses.

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3/28/2012.

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